Origins
by Samyo
Summary: Before they were extraordinary, they were outcasts. Please R&R! Chp. 10 up: The Beginning. Completed.
1. The End

**Title:** Origins

**Author:** Samyo

**Rating:** PG-13 (just to be safe)

**Genre:** General/Drama

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**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, did you think I did?

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My computer is back, it sort of crashed. It really sucked, like dead ducks.

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The old white hunter was now eternally resting; for now at least. The others were still there, looming over his grave, paying their last respects. None of them wanted to leave, for Quartermain was what kept them together. Africa was suppose to keep him alive, but he didn't die in Africa.

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Skinner was still recovering from the burns, he was suppose to still be in bed. While the others complained of the Kenyan heat, he just kept his mouth shut. The Kenyan summer was more of a breeze compared to the fire that would leave him scarred forever.

"What would be the point of going visible again; I'd look like the Elephant man." His hands were in his pockets, fingering separate objects. His left hand grasped a flask of whiskey, his right held a picture of Ana. Adverting pain and the ability of not being able to let go; he always wondered about what he would choose. More importantly, what would he choose now? To continue with the League of outcasts, equally hated by the world, all who've lost their innocence; or continue to be a rogue, consumed by pain and whiskey bottles. Each held regrets, each held rewards.

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She would admit, Quartermain had lived up to his name. He was a leader, their leader, but now that post was currently unmanned. She was lost again, lost and confused. Everything, everything wasn't what it appeared to be. M, the Fantom, Gray, even the League itself was a lie, a lie that they still choose to live. She wanted to run away and forget all of this, but she couldn't.

"He said that he would do everything to find a cure, do everything to help me." The Napoleon of Crime had told her this; she felt so stupid for not suspecting. It was another lie, as cold as Moriarty's body lying dead in Mongolia.

"There probably wasn't even a cure." No longer would she be trampled by lies, no more she would hide from the inevitable.

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"_Alan was old, what the hell would you people suspect. 'Oh, he got stabbed in the heart, but he's so young that he'll survive.' You're all fools."_

"Burn in hell, Edward." Hyde just laughed at this; it was his favorite game. The heat made Jekyll more irritable than usually, among other things. There was nothing he could do to help Quartermain; it was just his time.

"Sawyer is going to have big shoes to fill, that's all I'm sure about." He wasn't even sure about that, for a leader hadn't exactly been decided. He talked with Skinner about it, but Skinner didn't exactly have influence.

"Skinner, I can't believe we let him come. They better not come to me when he dies of some infection."

"_Stop worrying, you'll drive me to suicide."_

He always worried, he was always a worrier. He worried about people blaming them for Venice, he worried about the British government catching him.

"Amnesty, that was too cruel of a joke." Hyde stayed silent, Jekyll wanted it to stay that way.

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Sawyer hadn't felt like this since Aunt Polly died, no, this is the worse he had ever felt. He held one of the Princesses; sad that he kept guns as his company. He never knew his parents, Quatermain was like another chance, the league was like a another chance.

He was struggling at the funeral not t cry, crying wouldn't look good in front of Mina. He wanted to cry for everyone he ever lost but was too proud to. Cry for Aunt Polly, Huck Finn, the parents he never knew, Quartermain, Skinner's burns...

"It's all my fault; I should have died."

"_May this new century be yours as the last century was mine."_

"Come back to us, you were never suppose to die."

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He always hated the British government, but now he hated Moriarty's men. They were as bad as the first British who took over India; it was scary how much they resembled one another. He griminced at the thought of the women and children dying if the men didn't work, it was like the ghosts of time that he didn't let haunt him.

"Forced into evil in order to save the ones we love from evil." Nemo knew the relationship too well, anyone who looked at the photograph in his quarters would know why. It was what pushed him over the edge, what really made him "no one."

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	2. The Rogue

Writers' block really sucks, so does your computer crashing. I've hit a total stalemate with the OTVK series. Oh well, it sucked, hopefully this will be better.

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Skinner wasn't always invisible, he used to be normal, or at least closer to it than he was now. He was a theif, he was involved with gangs, but he could still walk among men without the stares.

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When I was Sawyer's age, maybe younger, was when I took the invisibility serum. The original invisible man, Griffin, had been dead and buried for a couple of years, so everyone would think that another invisible man would be completely out of the question. No one ever considered, especially in the small town of Iping, that Marvel, the man who was left with all of Griffin's papers, could figure out how to make the serum.

"Why would you want to be invisible, besides that it would be a boom to your work?" I had my reasons, and I didn't even consider that being invisible would greatly help my thievery.

"Did you do it for the adventure, did you at least do it for the thrill?" If only, I did it for revenge.

Six months before I came to Iping, to find the man who could make me disappear, they killed Ana. "They" was the Nickels Gang who's turf was mainly the White Chapel District and surrounding area. Ever since the Jack Ripper murders, everyone fears them, for many think that they were the ones responsible. The victims in questioned owed them money, though I personally think that one of them royals did it.

One of their rivals, the Union Jacks, gave me a job. Was nothing big, really, but the Nickels Gang didn't like it. I don't even remember what I stole, only that I stole and got paid. I remember who I stole from, some rich ex-military officer who was responsible for me getting kicked out of the army. It was like old fashioned pay back, you know? I was dishonorably discharged for his screw up, hurting my own pride, and now I could hurt his. I wish I knew that he was in cahoots with the Nickels Gang; I never would have taken the job.

They found out that it was me a few days later, and they killed her and burned our flat. Ana was my wife, my sanity, my will to live. Before I met her, I had no direction. I was just some bum on the street, alone and disinherited of a lordship. Don't ask me about the lordship, I couldn't explain it even if I tried. God, she was beautiful, one of the few things in my life that was. We were both young, both happy, plenty of time to start a new life.

I just came home one day from a day's worth of pick pocketing and found the building we lived in ablaze. No one knew where she was, so I ran in.

There was fire everywhere; the smoke made me choke. I could hear her screaming at the other end of the hall. I couldn't let the fire take her, not like it took Mary at the orphanage. I ran toward her, I was almost there; then the ceiling fell down. She didn't scream at all; she was gone like that.

I wanted revenge, but they would kill me before I could even try. I could only do it by being unseen; invisible. That was the reason why I sought Marvel; I was more than ready to bargain.

It turns out that as soon as Marvel figured it out, he turned himself invisible. Like Griffin, he used bandages to hide his condition, but I wasn't fooled. I brought with me all of my inheritance and life savings, all of which I had to steal back from the family who robbed me. I gave it all to him, even promised that I would be his partner in crime if he gave it to me. He told me to wait a fortnight; I knew that he was planning to run with the money.

I found out from the local innkeeper that he would leave by train; I made my plan.

I gave him quite a wicked surprise, showing up in the same train car. We fought each other hand to hand; it was a great distraction while I picked it from an inner pocket in his coat. I remember him screaming at me while I was running down to the baggage car; that was where the money was. I was able to lock him out while retrieved my money, he was screaming the whole time.

"You'll always regret it; you'll never be able to walk with man again." I didn't care, but he was right. Even then, I knew he was right, but I just wanted to shut him out. I could still hear him screaming as I jumped off the train.

Going invisible was the most painful thing I ever experienced; more painful than being burned alive. It felt like a mixture of ice and knives being shot into your skin. It was horrifying seeing myself disappear. By the time my organs were going invisible, I passed out from shock. I had horrible nightmares of every thing I ever witnessed; from the orphanage fire to Ana's death.

When I awoke, I had to learn how to live again. I had to learn to use hands I couldn't see, to shave a face that seemed not to exist. In public, I would where grease paint along with a big leather jacket and hat. I could feel the stares without looking, but I was so close to revenge.

The Nickels Gang never saw it coming; I have never killed a man unless it was for self defense since since. Being invisible and a master of moving around in the dark became lethal; I was like the monster you would hear in bedtime stories. I killed every one I could find, I even killed the leader. I slit his throat; it felt good yet my mind was screaming for it to stop. I thought that revenge would feel good; it only made me sick.

The pain was still there, maybe worse than it was. Ana was still dead, the baby she was carrying was still dead. I told her that I was going to become legitimate, leave the business. I wish I did; but I am still a rogue, not wanted by anyone, including the world.

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	3. The Vampire

Thank you for the reviews; I feel loved.

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When the knife pierced Dracula's heart, Mina was cured. In a way, she and Jonathan had a happily ever after. They even had a child, a son which they named Quincy. The only way she could become a vampire again would be by tasting the blood of her sire; or have her heart shattered to the point of no repair.

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For months I could barely walk, for I was so weak. The emotional toll, I will not speak of it. Dracula haunted my dreams still; every night I would relive it. Whenever I would go out in public, everyone would stare at me. Though I covered the bite marks with a scarf, they had all heard the story. I knew I could never have status in society, for being ravaged by a foreigner doesn't exactly help social standing. I didn't care, however, for I had Jonathon. I had him; I have him no more.

Though with the support of family and friends, I slipped into a deep depression. It got to the point where Dr. Van Helsing recommended for me to spend a month in a mental hospital so I could recuperate without outside stress. Jonathon wouldn't hear of it; there was enough strain on our marriage already. I didn't need to be admitted to a loony bin, I didn't need pills, I didn't need rest; I needed Dracula.

I hated my marriage with Jonathon, but I still loved him. But I couldn't stand being in the same room with him; I couldn't stand the shame. No one knows it, but I did leave him. I didn't leave him in the sense that I would never return; it was like a vacation from the world which made me hate myself.

That is how I met a man named Dorian Gray; a young, social aristocrat. He had a reputation of making advances on women, even taking those of men, but I didn't care. In ways, my relationship with him saved me. We were lovers, but we didn't love each other. I think every women should love their husbands, but more importantly, have an affair where they are loveless lovers.

It only lasted three months, for I knew Jonathon was trying to find me, and I didn't exactly want him to find out about Dorian. When I returned to Jonathon, our marriage was full of passion; I had no doubt in my mind that it would survive Dracula's storm.

After we made up, I found out that I was pregnant. I didn't know what to do; I wasn't ready to be a mother. It wasn't because I thought it was Dorian's, for I knew it wasn't, but it felt like another chain linking me to Jonathon forever. I couldn't stand the stress; everyday I thought that I would miscarry. The nightmare came back, and they would all end with Jonathon and the baby dying and me returning to Dracula.

None of that ever happened, the baby was born perfectly healthy. In fact, Quincy was born a week late. All of the fear went away; I was finally happy. I should no signs of post-pardon depression; life was finally going my way. Delivering the baby also gave me a sense of independence, giving me the urge to get involved. I started going to suffrage meetings; I could only imagine Jonathon's face if he ever knew.

When Quincy was three, an influenza epidemic went through our neighborhood. We thought, we should have gone to the country, but Jonathon's work kept us in the city. I remember when Quincy got sick, but we thought that it was just a cold. Even the doctors said that it was just a cold. My only child was taken away within three weeks, followed shortly by Jonathon.

The doctors lied; they said that it was only a cold. It was just another intance of things not being what they seemed. I would never see them again, just because we thought it was just a silly cold.

I slipped away again, almost reaching the status of being manic. At that point, I did check into my friend's mental hospital. I was treated with respect, but I only slipped farther away. I felt like I was in a boat drifting farther out to see, and people would watch, but wouldn't do a thing. I couldn't do anything either; I just watched my life slip away out from under me.

Then I had a dream, the strangest, most horrifying, most wonderful dream anyone could possibly have. I felt Dracula return, I felt his thirst; I felt him call for me.

I told the doctors at the hospital that I felt fine, but many of them didn't believe me. I was willing to run away so I could be with Dracula; luckily it didn't get that far. With deep reluctance, I was discharged with good mental health status, and my pilgrimage began.

When I saw Dracula, I was horrified at first.

"Were you scared? Were you afraid that he would kill you?" I was horrified, not afraid. He was a monster, a horrifying monster; I had no reason to fear him. I was Dracula's Bride; I would laugh if he tried to hurt me.

"I knew that you would come back, those like you with the fortune of being cured always do. Tell me, was the emptiness to much to bear?"

"No, losing my child and husband was too much to bear." I wish that he would just turn me back into the hated kind, the outcast kind.

"You know that you will never die, never be able to see the ones you miss and love in the after-life. Even if you did die, you would be more likely to burn in the depths of hell." I was living through hell already; I knew perfectly about what is was about.

"Give me back my freedom," was all I could say. He made a gash on wrist, the blood was warm and sweet. I was now an angel of darkness, a vampire, an outcast of the civilized world. At first I loved it, he wouldn't? Having the power over who should live and who should die; it was too easy. I returned to London, and found a secret community of those of my kind. For the first time in my life, I felt like I truly belonged. It was a comfort, not curse, to know that I would be with them forever.

The British government considered us a threat; monster killers were hired to massacre us. There were lists of names and addresses; I was one of the lucky ones who evaded that list. To this day, the government has no clue that I was involved with them. I knew there would be more programs; I had to be human again. But that would involve Dracula releasing me, breaking the tie with him forever. I didn't want to, but he did it anyway.

"The life of death was never intended for you." I was half released, as if it was my eternal purgatory. I was not human enough to be normal, not vampiric enough to be accepted by other vampires. I would however, always be Dracula's Bride; a vampire among other things.

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	4. The Spy

Thanks for the reviews; they make me feel special. Though it's been two months, I would like to extend my sympathies to those affected by the Indian Ocean tsunami.

**OTVK Update:** I'll start updating after this fic is done. As I said, because of my computer crashing, it deleted all of the chapters I had written so far fo vol. 2. I'll probably have to print the last chapter, so I'll at least have something to look back on. Plus, I'm like, a freshman in high school (and I have to wake up really early). Oh, well, it isn't like no one misses it. That reminds me; people, start bugging Lady Norbert to update. Oh, and you all need to update, too.

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The future was where he lived and breathed, for the past would only keep him back. He never knew his parents; he was raised in the house of his aunt and two cousins. Moriarty's men had killed his childhood friend, but that wasn't what made him grow up; that wasn't what made him lose all child-like innocence.

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It was the most thrilling thing I had ever done, going after Moriarty with Quartermain. I was fueled with hate, anger from Huck's murder. I was mad or hated everyone. I hated the Secret Service for recruiting me and the other boys, heck, I even hated Huck for getting shot. I wanted to kill Moriarty with my own bare hands, but Quartermain would hear none of it.

"This must not be a hunt to the death, but mostly pity." I didn't care, even if I had to go through hell and back, I would kill him.

"We must take M alive, and make him tell his secrets." Everyone agreed with Quartermain on this, but I still wanted to kill him. I didn't care about his damn secrets, though I knew someday I would.

I had never wanted to kill someone so bad; I felt like a monster. Sure, Sid would make me mad sometimes because he was what Aunt Polly always wanted and I would just be a nuisance, but I never wanted to spill his blood. I wanted to kill Moriarty for the wrong reasons, ungodly reasons. I wanted it so bad for somewhere in my head I thought it would bring Huck back; it never would.

He, he being Quartermain, could sense that I would kill Moriarty no matter what. In ways, I think he wanted to kill Moriarty more than keep him alive.

"Sawyer," he told me before we left the caves, "we want him alive." I felt shame run through me, but my feelings on killing him were still the same. Moriarty was just a sneaky, dirty rat; a rat that had reached his last days.

The fortress was vast, and seemed to be more like a puzzle than a building. Moriarty's dirty tricks and traps were everywhere. One of his other tricks was the other invisible man, a man which many suspected of being Sanderson Reed. I remember urging Quartermain to go on without me, for I thought he was Skinner. He didn't want to, but I made him. We were in hot pursuit of Moriarty; nothing could change that.

"I'm not Skinner," still rings in my head. The bastard started trying to stab me, and got me good on the hand. Then the guy with the fire gun came. If there was a place closer to hell on earth than that, please, take me to it. Every time the flames came toward me, I thought that was it.

The guy finally cornered me; I looked for a weapon. All I found was some metal thing; like that was gonna save my ass. Then Skinner came, the real one. He jammed a knife in the suit somewhere, and told me to run. Then he was on fire, just like that. I didn't know what to do, I don't even remeber what I did. I remember passing out from the smoke outside the room.

When I woke up, I found Skinner just around the corner. God, I still can't believe he survived that. Of course, him being Skinner, he tried to joke about it.

"That's the last time I play with matches." Then he started to motion to something behind me; the blade of the knife was cold and sharp. Reed laughed, Skinner went motionless. I had lost another friend, or at least thought I did.

"Try anything, you join your crispy friend." He laughed some more, the blade went farther into my skin. Against his warning, I thought of every possibly way that could get me back my freedom as I was escorted to my fated location. I tried to remember every escape attempt I had ever heard about; any that I had read about. I got desperate; the bombs went just in time.

The explosion caused Reed to lose the knife and let go of me; I went like Mercury himself. If I ran faster, farther; I would have gotten away, but I would probably be dead instead by falling ruble. As the dust cleared, I felt the knife again at my throat.

"Thought you were gonna get away, didn't you now?" If I couldn't kill Moriarty, I would kill Reed. I became one of Moriarty's tricks when we came to them both fighting. Moriarty knew, I would say I didn't, that Quartermain wouldn't let anything happen to me. I wanted to scream when he shot Reed, leaving his back exposed. I hated myself more when Moriarty went flying out the window.

I should have known that the knife went to his heart, but I was a fool. When I look back, I could see it on his face that he knew he was hurt bad, but kept up the illusion that he was okay, just had broken glasses. I should have helped him, but I let my revenge get in the way.

I was totally overcome but hate, and also fear. What if I misses the shot, what if? Quartermain would help me, the closest thing to a father I ever had that also happened to be dying would help me. I was suddenly back on the deck of the Nautilus with him, during the shooting lesson. Moriarty was the target this time; he was just a target.

I took my time and made the shot; I felt like I had shot myself when it got to Moriarty. I watched him plummet to the ground; I watched his body go motionless.

"I got him!" I got him, I got him, I got him. I could see his breaths get weaker, I could feel his pulse quietly dying out. The century's greatest adventure was dying because he turned his back on the enemy. I wanted to run, but I froze. Just like when Huck died, I froze.

"May this new century be yours..."

You could of lived if you didn't give up so quickly. You could have lived if I wasn't such a damn fool.

"As this one was mine." Like a candle being blown out, he was gone.

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Sorry for going out of order, but I didn't feel like writing about Jekyll. **Please review.**


	5. The Beast

I am full of guilt; I will write the Jekyll chapter now.

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"He used to be good, yes, he used to be good. He would treat sick children and make them better again. He was always known as the good doctor in London, and a charitable soul. He is no more, and hasn't been for years." All of his former patients, friends, and colleagues say this now. Even in death, they refuse to regret about Hyde and his evil. All the good doctor wanted was to be totally without his doctor side, but only became a slave to it. They say he died; he didn't.

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I didn't know what to do, they had all found out.

_You were a coward, Henry; you took the easy way out._

I didn't want you to hurt the ones I cared about, I didn't want them to hurt me.

_To bad none of them were the ones you loved. You were always too proper, too incapable to be with women._ _As for you, you asked for it when you drank the elixir. Still can't believe you thought that you would get rid of me forever._

So I faked my death, and they believed it. I should have killed myself, so your evil couldn't infect the world any longer.

_Henry, I'm touched._

Shut up, let me tell my side of the story.

_Then I can tell mine._

Burn in hell.

_Fine, like they give a damn about you. A man who has two minds in his head should be in a asylum, or at least a freak show._

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As I said, I didn't know what to do. They had all found out, or at least they were about to. I thought of killing myself, but I could never do it. I'm a coward; I could have been a hero if I did. I had lost control of Hyde, and to top it off, the drugstore no longer had the special ingrediant. I prayed for a miracle, but none of it would work. Hyde was taking almost full control, so even if I was brave enough, Hyde would never let me do it.

"But what if I faked it?" It was a start, but where would I go? France, Hyde would love it. He could have all the whores and indulge in sin as much as he wanted. In the meantime, I could try to find a substitute ingredient that would put me back in control.

I didn't want to leave London; it was my home. I was born there, raised there, worked there; but I also had the duty of protecting it. Hyde was a menace to society, and nothing in London could stop him.

It was a miracle, pulling it all off. It was more of one leaving London, for I was in the form of Hyde still. I took a boat to France, for that bridge is still being worked on. I had second thoughts the whole time; I could have paid someone to kill me. England was suffocated in fog as I approached France; Hyde's next victim.

Hyde was in total control by the time we arrived; I was just a mere voice in his head. I was on the verge of disappearing forever, though I knew that wouldn't happen. I thought of making a deal with him, but I was too afraid.

"Why were you afraid, he was part of you." I don't know, whenever I would try, the words just wouldn't come out. I feared that Hyde could control my thoughts, for he had also become much larger and physically stronger. Then I remembered what my father would tell me.

"The mind outweighs the physical, no matter what the situation is." He was right, my dear old dad was so right. I gathered up all my mental courage, for I was just mental, and spoke up.

"Hyde, I want to make a deal."

"_Well, the cowardly doctor finally speaks up."_ I didn't know what type of deal I should make, so I thought of all his problems. The whores, that was it. He wanted the pleasure, but they were always too afraid of him, so he had to kill them.

"Change back to me in the daytime time; then I'll change back to you at night." I prayed that he would accept, but I had to give him more. "I'll lure them, give you their pleasure. You could use my body, but it would be your mind instead."

"_Deal, but if you don't change back into me..."_

"I will, you know I'm too much of a coward not to." I heard him smirk; I still can't believe I came up with it.

It was horrible, bringing all of those girls to him. To make it worse, he forced me to feel their presence, too. I wanted to scream, I wanted to end it, but how else would I cure myself? I went through months of this hell, of this torture, and finally got a breakthrough; I could control Hyde.

It was an alternate formula, a substitute to the old. Though it wouldn't lessen Hyde's strength, it would give me total control. He could only take form if I drank it, and I wouldn't need to drink more to change back to one's self, I would just wait for it to wear off.

I should have taken full control immediately, I could of saved more of those poor girls; but I didn't. I was such a damn coward; I didn't deserve to live.

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	6. The Scientist

Thank you all for the reviews; I've never gotten so many so early in a story. Though this has nothing to with the story, the Spice Girls would of been together for a couple more years if Geri didn't leave. I was just listening to Spice Girls just now; I'm sad now.

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**Author's Note:** I have never read the Mysterious Island, so I guess anything that happened in the Disney movie 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea that didn't happen in the book with the same title happened in the Mysterious Island. You will never make me read it, for the only reason I read 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea was because all of the boring scientific jargon was edited out. Jules Verne, especially in Journey to the Center of the Earth (which I couldn't even finish), is a ridiculously boring writer. I am making Nemo's story up as I go, so don't hurt me with blunt objects. Oh, and I'm also going on what I read in vol. 1 of the graphic novel. Also, since I don't know the names of the countries back then, I have decided to use Sri Lanka and Maldives anyway.

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Nemo had faked his death also, though it wasn't exactly as extreme as Jekyll's. It was during the Mysterious Island incident, as many remember. Well, he didn't exactly try to fake his death; the newspapers made that part up. He was badly injured, on the brink of death. He feared that the men he hated would find out his secret; it was decided that the Nautilus would die with him. However, his first mate Ishmael made him reconsider, so he decided to make it look like the Nautilus was destroyed.

British colonization of India, along with the growing evils of the world, was what made Nemo flee to the sea, what made him call it home. He once had a wife, he even once had children, but the British government took them away, too. They took them away, just like when they took India away.

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I was born and raised in central India, in independent Bundelkund, as far from the ocean as it could be. As a boy, my father wold tell me about it, making my hunger for it even greater. I would educate myself deeply in every subject that seemed remotely related to it; it served as a great distraction from the horrors of the world. My family was royalty, and known enemies of the British Empire.

My father was the Rajah, I was the nephew of Tippu-Sahib, one of the greatest leaders of the rebellion against the British. We hated the British, as much as they hated us. At age ten, I was sent away to Europe in hopes that I could help India fight on the same levels as the British.

For ten years, I educated myself in almost every subject, then I was called back to fight. At night, I wished I would wake up at the universities, but instead I would wake to blood drenched battlefields. In twenty battles, I was injured ten times. Back then, I was not known as the pirate Captain Nemo, but as Prince Dakkar.

When my homeland fell, I had lost all hope in the ideal of humanity. I wanted to do with it no more, so I turned to the sea. With the education I got from the Western world, I built what would allow me to live in the sea and never depend on humanity again.

It would be called the Nautilus, the Sword of the Ocean, and it would be a safe haven for any man who had lost faith like I did. Though many thought it was crazy, hope was what drove me forward. For years I planned it's building, and now it would become a reality.

The biggest challenge was where to build it; it couldn't be built where the British would find out. My two choices was an island off the coast of Sri Lanka, or one of the many islands of the Maldives. Fate made me choose Sri Lanka, for that was where I met my future wife.

Neela was her name, and every day I thanked the gods for her. She supported me and my impossible dreams, and gave me three beautiful daughters. So many times, I reconsidered my views on humanity, for she was like the good side of it that hardly ever showed.

The Nautilus was barely complete when the British found out; I should have left as soon as I heard, but I didn't. Neela didn't want to leave, though I told her so many times that we had no choice. Then it happened; the British came.

They attacked at night, for they thought that we were the latest rebellion operation. Every building they saw was destroyed or severely damaged. I told my crew to get the Nautilus ready to be launched while I got my family. They were in our house, trapped by fire. I couldn't get to them, they wouldn't let me get to them.

The British killed them, no, murdered them. That day, all faith for humanity was lost for me. That day, I was no longer Prince Dakkar. I was now Captain Nemo; no one.

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	7. The Hunter

This is the first fic I have ever written that has gotten over 30 reveiws! And I've, like, written twenty!

Author's Note: There will not be a Hyde chapter, for Hyde is Jekyll/Jekyll is Hyde. Yes I find it confusing, but what isn't today? Want to know confusing; the rumor about the dude from Napoleon Dynamite dying (food poisoning, car crash, running from IRS). That was so not true, for it would of been on the news, or at least, in Entertainment Weekly.

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He was six feet under ground; dead, dead, dead. Africa wasn't suppose to let him die, but he didn't die in Africa. The medicine man told him that Africa would never let him die; maybe that was just in a spiritual sense, a folklore sense. He said it after Quartermain had saved his village; he didn't save it. Umslopogas saved it while Quartermain watched from afar. He should have died that day, but Nyleptha and the medicine man wouldn't let him.

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The British Empire are just a couple twits who claim that the run the world's largest empire; greed and corruption are the only things I see running it. Men die brave, horrible deaths defending it, yet only the pansies (which usually end up being Lords) are recognized. The only good thing about the Empire being so big is that one can easily dissapear, almost get rid of them in all entirety.

When Harry died, that was exactly what I did. Kenya was just like one of those places; still part of the Empire yet I could go away with the Legend of Bloody Alan Quartermain. Harry was only Sawyer's age when he died, died, died...

He was a brave son of the Empire, one who to them could be easily replaced by another brave son. He wasn't just another brave son, he was my only son. He was just another to them who went away without a word, with a dead Lord being grieved instead.

I am a coward and hate violence, yet the papers make me out as being brave and a war hawk in some respects. I only fought to protect the ones I loved and cared for, but I sometimes didn't even do that. I couldn't even do that to save my only son, the African diamond of my lonely world.

I lead, he followed along with the others. I could tell you every single detail of the mission if my life depended on it, but my mind only dwells on his dead body. I want to kick myself for not being able to carry him closer to help, but it is not sensible to blame one's old age. The blood is still in my clothes, it's still on my hands. No matter how many times I wash them, the blood is still on my hands.

I had it then, the bubble burst; I told the whole God damn Empire to bugger off and let me die a coward. I never exactly told them that, but warned that I would shoot the messenger who brought the calling of the Empire.

That was where the relationship broke, where my personal wants took place. For years, I wanted to search for the Zu-Vendis, the native white race of Africa, and now I finally could.

In doing so, we started a beif and bloody civil war between its two queens; Nyleptha and Sorais. Nyleptha won and the race was saved, but not without it's cost.

Umslopogas died while protecting the stairwell that led to Nyleptha; I just watched. I didn't fire a single bullet, didn't give a single yell of warning, I didn't even move. When he fell, I moved; the damage was already done. Then I felt the spear pierce my lung, I felt death's cold bare hands on me.

But they couldn't let me die, they couldn't let Bloody Alan Quartermain die. The Zu-Vendis thought that they owed me something, something like apparent eternal life.

I remember looking up at Nyleptha, her skin was the color of pearls. She had a sweet smile, a smile that would make the darkest things disappear. Then I saw the medicine man, the man who said Africa would never allow me to die.

I wanted to die, for at least I could have the dignity of going down fighting, but more importantly, having the assurance of seeing Harry again.

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I need thoughts on whether as a bonus chapter (posted after the official last chapter) should be written for the character Alejandra from OTVK. It's not likely, but I am considering it. I am, however, going to make chapters for Dorian Gray and Moriarty. 


	8. The Immortal

Yeah, I'm updating now...yeah. And yes, for those Dorian Gray fans out there, I am finally writing his chapter. I know this story is unusually depressing, so I order you all to write funny stories and go to friends have started it, though it is still under construction. Oh, and for those who wondered, I got my information for the Quartermain and Nemo chapters from Fantastic Victoriana. Just do a Yahoo search. Anyway, here's the chapter.

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When he was hit, he bled ash. Cold, gray ashes. You could see the ash his eyes, you could smell it on his breath. In ways, he was just a walking corpse; a corpse kept alive with ashes.

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Remember when you were just a selfish little child, always wanting something. A toy, being able to stay up late, even your parents' love. As children, we always end up not getting something, so we wish. We wish for fairies to magically appear and grant our heart's desire. And when the fairies don't magically appear, we wish to our parents, and then they say, "Be careful what you wish for."

I wasn't a child when I made the wish, and I wasn't careful. It wasn't even a wish to think of it, just a thought, a mindless thought. Who thought that a thought could curse me forever, but it is not so bad.

It all started when I was sitting for a portrait. Basil Hallward was the artist, and was my friend. It took days for him to paint me, though sometimes I think he purposely made it longer. I knew about his intentions, or at least he wanted. It doesn't matter anymore, for I decided where it went in the end. Like all of them, he envied me. He envied my youth, my innocence, the fact that I had more time to live then he did.

I was thinking, for one often thinks while sitting for a portrait. I remember my exact thoughts, the words or spell to my curse.

"How sad it is! How sad it is! I shall grow old, and horrible, and dreadful. But this picture will remain always young. It will never be older than this particular day of June...If it were only the other way! If it were I who was to be always young, and the picture that was to grow old! For that -for that- I would give everything! Yes, there is nothing in th whole world I would not give! I would give my soul for that!"

The curse was set, though I did not know for awhile. The portrait was perfect, perfectly catching my youth. It was so lifelike; you felt like the subject of the painting would just walk out and live like any other. Sooner than it should have, the innocence of the portrait went away; it went far away.

I noticed little things, though I growing look of displeasure wouldn't seem little to most. I didn't really care, for I wasn't the one changing. Though more was to come, an event that would reveal the true nature of the portrait.

Like all young men, I feel in love with a young, beautiful woman. Her name was Sibyl Vane, an actress of the stage. Just watching her would transport you to heaven, and her acting would fool that most cunning at that. She was an unspoiled flower, a perfection of the world. Like the other women, I ruined her, though with her I destroyed her.

"Did you kill her?" No, but I had my hand in it. I set her going, and she did the rest. With a simple kiss, and my proposition of marriage, her talent and my love for her went away. I remember after the kiss I took my friends to see her in one of her plays; it was difficult to watch, for her acting was so bad. I even went back stage to tell her, and thus I proclaimed that I loved her no more.

Maybe I didn't fall in love with her exactly, maybe it was just her acting. I saw for the first time, that the reason she acted so well was because she had never known true love. So it was alright and innocent still for her to play into the dreadful lie of it all. But once she knew, she could no longer act it.

A few days later, I learned that she had died of poison. Though the police said it wasn't, I knew that it was suicide. Her heart was shattered beyond repair, and her reason to live had shattered with it. This was what caused the most horrific changing of the portrait.

It was hideous, disgusting, all the negative words one could say. It held a painful grimace, it had aged tenfold. But I stayed the same, and even the mental burden of her death was soaked into the portrait.

I became cocky, for I realized that I had a gift, but I still didn't know the extent. I carried many love affairs without care, and ruined the virtues of others without a second thought. Though as the years went on, more and more, people came closer to learning my secret; I came closer to learning my secret.

At that point, I had locked the painting in a room, for I dared not look at it. It had been so long, I feared that the portrait might want it's youthful appearance again. At night, I couldn't sleep. During the day, it haunted my thoughts. The painting was controlling me, and seemed to be the replacement of my conscious.

Basil almost found out, but I killed him before he could tell. I had killed the creator of the painting; looking at it would surely kill me now. But I wanted to resist so badly, that one day I decided to destroy it; but I couldn't. If I died, I would never reach the gates of heaven, only the depths of hell.

I cried that day, and that night, but the tears dried up as quickly as they fell. I was soon crying ash, and if my skin was ever broken, I would bleed ash. I knew that I had exchanged my soul for immortality, and that ash would serve as my reminder.

Hell contains the fires of fires, a fire that turns flesh to ash.

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Please review. Two more chapters left, though if they ever make a sequel and add more characters, I will add more. Did anybody see the Will&Grace episode that Stuart was on? God, he is so hot! Oh, and I need help on OTVK. Serious help. 


	9. Napoelean of Crime

Thank you for the reviews, I feel so loved. This is the second to last chapter of the story. I will miss it so.

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As far as they knew, he was dead. Maybe they were right, but no one would know for many years. They left his body there, there in Mongolia, to be covered in drifting snow and be frozen forever. They would regret it, but at the moment, they didn't. The League hated him, despised him, wanted him to burn in hell forever. He deserved to be frozen forever; frozen dead.

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I was born James Moriarty indeed, born into the slums of London, surrounded by the scum of the earth. By miracle, I added Professor, and became a respected man. The Napolean of Crime came with the recognition of my gift of being a con-artist, and so the games began.

I was the Napoleon of Crime, through and through, and I was known as Detective Sherlock Holmes's greatest nemesis. Both of us were such great minds of our day; too bad we wanted each other's blood. Even in death, our fight for supremacy will never end; never.

I, today, like to say that I died and was reborn. Well, speaking to the contrary, I was.

It happened in Switzerland, and not be especially surprising, I was with the man I hated yet loved for he seemed the closet to an equal, Detective Holmes. It was the final act of our rivalry, the showdown between the Napoleon of Crime and the great detective himself.

It was pathetic, really, for I had such an upper hand, and he knew it, or should have. As a last act of mercy to my rival, I allowed him to write his dear brother, Detective Mycroft Holmes. From an educated guess, I guess he was trying to warn his brother of my plans, though his brother never did find out.

As soon as he placed the letter away, the fight began. It was decided that we would fight man to man, no weapons allowed. We fought for awhile, but he someone got under me and threw me into the waterfall. I should have fallen to my death, my skull busting into a million pieces as I hit the boulders below, but the supreme architect of our world saw my potential, and knew that I could not be lost.

To tell the truth, I thought the Holmes had won.

"That cunning bastard," I thought, "my God kill me so I won't have to live with the shame." Around this time, I saw Holmes starting to scale the side of the waterfall. By shear luck, and what would suffice as my back up plan, Compacion Bond, his man, and my daughter. pulled me from the boulders.

"Don't worry, Sir; my man will take care of Holmes." His man was carrying a gun, but there was to much at stake. It couldn't look like a third party was involved in our little brawl, so I thought, and came up with a brilliant scheme.

"The rocks, use the rocks; create a landslide." It would be perfect, a perfect accident.

Within days, the news of Holmes's death, along his nemesis, had reached the empire. The nation mourned him, for he was considered one of the Empire's greatest sons. For a year after, I laid low, and began on my plan that Holmes tried to warn his dear brother about.

I started at the bottom, and within a few years, I had infiltrated the most powerful in parliament. After incidents occurring in Germany and England, I had finally set my master plan in motion. I would wield the greatest powers on earth, and would become richer then the queen herself.

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Please review, and again, this is the second to last chapter. 


	10. The Beginning

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, squat, nunca; must I go into foreign languages?

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Usually I say a bunch of worthless crap at the beginning, but since this is the last chapter and all, I decided to get right to the point so people won't riot.

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The funeral was over; a choice would now have to be made. Would this apparent farce come to an end, or would this be the beginning of something truly extraordinary? They all just stood there, unsure of what the next move would be. Skinner, him being Skinner, broke the uneasy silence.

"You remember when he swore Africa wouldn't let him die? I wish the old boy had been right." It was like a secret signal, opening the floor to discussion of their fate.

"What's next?" Sawyer stood away from the league, for he was still, in some respects, waiting for an invitation to the private party.

"I have long hidden away from the world, now I wish to see it anew as the century turns. You're all welcome to join me."Nemo now emerged as a leader, maybe even their leader.

"We've all been hiding in one form or another." Mina supported the plan, or was trying to make her own bid for the leadership role.

"The Nautilus awaits."

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I bowed my head, and paid my final respects to the great hunter in silence. Life has taught me that silence can be the most respectful and beautiful thing in the world, especially after chaotic times. Whether the others will join me, I will truly start living where the ghosts of time will not haunt me.

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"So, who's coming?"

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I have no choice; my life is with them now. Before, I thought that I was destined to travel the world; it's coming true. Aunt Polly, you'd be so proud of me; maybe you'd think that me being a rascal was worth it.

Quartermain, I will never forgive you; never. You weren't suppose to die. You weren't...

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"So long, old chap."

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Might as well tag along; could be a good incentive to continue living.

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"Goodbye, Alan."

It would be nice to have friends, actual friends. I always wanted to see the world.

_But you've always been such a bloody coward. _

_

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"Goodbye."

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No longer I will hide, no longer I will stand behind someone; I will stand beside them in all equality.

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The league left, along with the others who attended the old white hunter's funeral. Africa never forgot its word; never.

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_"Arise, awaken."_

Storm clouds filled the sky.

_"Arise, awaken."_

A portal between the worlds was now being created.

_"Arise, awaken."_

The earth shake, lightning hit the grave.

_"Arise, awaken."_

Complete silence.

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Weird ass ending, I know, but I just want finish this. Thanks to all who reviewed; still have hope that they'll make a sequel to the movie. Cheers! 


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